


and your heart (will be on fire)

by ArmedWithMyComputer



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU Canon Divergence, Grief, Major character death - Freeform, Spoilers, anguish, because i needed more brotherly anguish during that scene, but not by much - just enough to make me sadder, major spoilers for botfa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:56:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2773790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArmedWithMyComputer/pseuds/ArmedWithMyComputer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His brother's name is the fiercest battle cry ever made, the most sorrowful sound in the world, the most treasured possession he has ever laid claim to. It’s the last thing that he can do, his final ode to the other half of his soul. He thinks that he may be dead already, in a world where only he exists.</p>
<p>Rewrite of that scene in botfa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and your heart (will be on fire)

**Author's Note:**

> Had this pressing on me since the moment I got out of the cinema. An obvious AU of events in that scene at the end - pretty sure everyone's who has seen the movie knows what I'm on about. Basically because I wanted more brother grief.

He’s being held up, like a war prize, and still all he can think of is his brother.

Fili can see Thorin and Dwalin, screaming up at him—and doesn’t it just look like someone has torn his uncle’s heart out. Bilbo is there too, staring at him with woeful eyes, and Fili feels the cold steel pressing into his spine.

Azog shakes him roughly, and Fili feels his feet scramble against air. There’s blood drying on his face, a fire in his chest, and his pulse beats out a frantic rhythm underneath his skin.

His mind is racing though the same name, over and over, like it has been since that moment seventy odd years ago when his whole world changed. _Kili – Kili – Kili –Kili—_

And then Fili sees him, his brother, looking like he’s the one being trussed up—looking like he’d prefer it to be him. Kili’s half leaning against one of the passageway entry points below him and slightly to the side, as if his legs simply just couldn’t hold him up anymore, and Fili focuses his whole gaze on him.

He’s being shaken again, like a useless piece of fabric, and Fili has absolutely no illusions that this will have a happy ending.

Kili is stumbling towards him, but for all the distance between then, Fili knows that his brother will never make it in time. And he doesn’t want him to—doesn’t want Kili to risk his life any more than he needs to, doesn’t want him to waste his last breaths avenging him.

For all their bravado and tough exteriors, Fili and Kili didn’t come on this quest to die—and Fili wants at least one of them to make it out of this.

“No!” He screams, feeling his final few breaths escape from his raw throat, “ _Run_!”

And while that statement is directed at them all, it’s meant for Kili—and his brother knows it. Kili knows it in the way that he struggles to lock his knees and stand upright, and Fili can see how his trembling hands grip his sword that bit tighter.

_No_.

Then something sharp is sliding through his back, and it almost doesn’t hurt at first. It simply takes his breath away, stalls his breathing for a few brief moments in time—and Fili uses those to soak in the sight of his brother for the final time.

He never wanted to be the first to die.

The pain hits him then, and his chest seizes up around the cold metal. Fili opens his mouth to let out a scream that’ll never make it past his trembling windpipe muscles—and then he’s falling.

At some point in his descent, he gives his final thoughts to Kili—for his world has revolved around his younger brother since the moment he took his first breath, and Fili can only pray to the gods that they’ll protect Kili and see him safely through his carnage.

Because his time for minding and safeguarding is over, he knows that.

He doesn’t hear his brother’s final anguished cry—Fili is long past his final breath by that point, and he’s already gone by the time his body hits the ground.

.

Kili’s whole world is on fire, crumbling around him.

His brother is in front of him, his brother’s body—Fili’s bloody, motionless body laid out on the stone at his feet. He stares at the golden hair with wide eyes, a hysterical stillness captivating him. And those brown eyes that he knows so well gaze back at him, glazed over and completely devoid of anything.

It takes a few seconds for Kili to remember how to breathe—and it’s only by instinct of his body that a shuddering breath is forced out of him.

Kili’s never breathed in a world that Fili hasn’t been breathing in.

A thousand different things shoot through his mind, but one word runs through on a repeating loop; _Fili – Fili – Fili—Fili –_

He takes a step towards the body, and then stumbled back two more steps—too horrified at the situation. Kili opens his mouth to say something, to force out the one word that’s ever meant anything in his life, but he can’t get past the growing lump of emotion in his chest.

His wild eyes divert their gaze in a fit of desperation and lock with his uncle’s. There’s dozens of paces between them, and Fili’s body to make the distance seem even greater.

There’s suddenly a burning purpose in his vision, and Kili doesn’t think that he’s ever had a more important duty. He will kill these monsters who did this to his brother, his _Fili_ —who still hasn’t moved, and who never will again.

Thorin seems to sense his desire at the same moment as Kili realises it—and his uncle cries out to him.

All the sound has been drained out of the world though, at the moment the metal pierced his brother’s back, and the colours have been leached away—so Kili doesn’t even hear Thorin.

He spares another frantic glance at his brother—the one who filled his universe with light—and then looks away to the scene now shrouded in darkness. _Soon, brother,_ he thinks—and Kili doesn’t even know what he means by that.

Kili is running then, charging up stone steps with a howl being torn out of his soul the whole way up.

When he reaches the top, his ears are thrumming with the final sounds of his brother ( _“No—run—no—run—no—run—“)_ and there’s a twisted, awful smile gracing his features. The orcs turn to sneer at him, and Kili bares his teeth at them, still on the same ledge that his brother had been on moments before.

There is only word remaining that he can comprehend, can speak, so he says it—screams it—prays it—begs it—“Fili. Fili. Fili.”

It’s the fiercest battle cry ever made, the most sorrowful sound in the world, the most treasured possession Kili has ever laid claim to. It’s the last thing that he can do, his final ode to the other half of his soul. Kili thinks that he may be dead already, in a world where only he exists.

So he swings his sword, cries bitter tears through the slashing motions, and hears his body making a loud keening noise throughout.

Kili gets hit once, twice, three times by Azog’s weapon – but he cannot be hurt in a world where he’s already dead. So he lurches to his feet each time, to counter back with the adrenaline of pure grief coursing through him.

He leaves physical marks of his anguish on Azog’s skin, which bleed red like the corners of Kili’s soul, and it’s as though there are no limits to his endurance. Ghosts don’t feel pain or fatigue, after all.

When it finally comes down to it Azog has turned away, and Bolg has him pinned on his knee, chest facing towards the bloody blade and stormy sky. Kili struggles to lift his own sword at the difficult angle, feels his muscles protest—and pushes through despite the tearing sensation deep inside him.

So that when the blade slices through his sternum and buries itself deep inside his chest—his arm is already in motion, arcing up unnaturally to strike powerfully into the side of the orc’s neck, essentially severing major arteries and any chance of life remaining.

Black blood sprays out, splattering Kili with tiny droplets of his final deed, and he hits the ground with a flash of light.

He’s still there though, and that same chant is echoing in his mind with a frenzy like nothing Kili has ever experienced. Blood is pumping out of his chest with every repetition, and he raises his head at the intensity of it, _Fili – Fili – Fili—Fili –_

Kili can see the edge of the ledge, can reach out his hand and grip the side of it—so he drags his body over further to it.

His vision is blurred, but when he looks over he can just make out the coloured sight of his brother’s still form surrounded by black and white scenery. Kili has only needed one person in this world to give him colour and meaning, so he pulls himself a little further and lets the momentum take him the rest of the way.

Wind whistles though his hair on the way down, and he wonders if this was what it was like for Fili.

But then he’s hit the ground and his brother is _right there_ , so Kili stretches out a shaking, blood soaked hand, and manages to latch onto Fili’s right boot. His fingers curl around the stiff leather, and things instantly click into place.

The contact is enough, and Kili knows instantly that he’s come _home_ again.

He hasn’t take a breath in what seems like decades, not since Fili fell surely, and Kili decides that it’s not so bad. He’s got his brother again, and slowly all the darkness is turning to light, so he keeps his eyes fixated on his brother’s shining body.

_I’m following you, brother._

 

**Author's Note:**

> And so, my anguish continues. Therapeutic writing though, as if I needed more heartbreak.


End file.
